


Partners

by seekingsquake



Series: If Seeing Is Believing Then Believe That We Have Lost Our Minds [3]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of brainwashing, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Needs a Hug, Clintasha - Freeform, F/M, I just want to hug him while he falls apart, Post-Avengers, consent is important kids, pre-phase 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:45:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekingsquake/pseuds/seekingsquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's just until you're okay."<br/>"I'm okay."<br/>"I know."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Partners

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and no one relating to Marvel. Just a Hawkeye action figure that has a hard time standing up on his own.  
> Please do not repost or reupload this piece anywhere without consent. If you ask, I'm sure we can work something out :]

He watches her pass Banner the dufflebag, watches as he hops in a red convertible with Stark and speeds away. He watches as Rogers takes off on his bike without a backwards glance, and he watches as Tash fiddles around in the glove compartment before starting the engine and pulling away from the curb.

“Buckle up,” she says as she takes them away from where they’d watched Thor disappear back into space with Loki and the Tesseract. He does as he’s told without question, and he wonders if it’s because Tash told him to, or if it’s because his brain is still searching to be controlled by something. He’s been thinking on his own without Loki’s influence for nearly twenty four hours now, but he still doesn’t feel like himself. He feels an empty space in his head now, and he can’t figure out if Loki has put it there, or if it has always been there and he just didn’t notice until Loki filled and then vacated it. It drives him a little crazy, makes him want to shoot bullseye after bullseye until his fingers are bleeding, so he tries very hard not to think of it at all.

When he comes back to himself it is because Tash has stepped out of the car and slammed the door. He scrambles to catch up to her, and follows too closely behind her as she enters what he recognizes as a SHIELD certified safe-house. It’s just a nondescript three storey walk up, but it’s one of the only perfectly secure places in New York. They go up the stairs and as soon as they’re in the apartment and the door is locked, Tash is on him with hungry lips and hands that rove over his body as if looking for something to take. She has always been a whirlwind and up until this moment he was always content to go along for the ride, but right now he can’t really tell what’s happening.

He wants to do it because he wants to, not because he wants her to tell him to want to, and right now he doesn’t know if he wants to or if he wants to want to. So he cups her face in his hands and breathes against her lips, “Natasha,” and she reels herself in and looks at him critically. A moment of heavy silence passes between them, and then she takes his hand and leads him to the bedroom.

She strips him of his jacket and shoes, then pushes him down onto the mattress. “Natasha,” he murmurs again, a little concerned, a little panicked, but she nods. She takes off her own jacket and shoes, then crawls up onto the bed and curls against him, her head on his chest and her fingers resting against the fabric of his t-shirt, stretched over his abdomen. They don’t move and they don’t speak until the sun has set and the room has been dark for hours. He hasn’t slept since before Loki was in his head, and he doesn’t know when the last time she got some shut-eye was, but neither of them sleep tonight.

Finally she says, “They’re putting me on assignment in DC. I leave in the morning.”

He shifts, tightening his arms around her briefly before responding. “What do I need to bring?”

“You’re not coming with me.” Anyone else would have said that she sounded indifferent, cold even. But not him. He had been trained to read between the lines of her inflections, to read the subtle dips and falls of her volume, and to be able to pick out the double or triple meaning to all her words. Reading between her lines was meant to save his life, but often she made him use this skill for other purposes. She says _you’re not coming with me_ , but what she wants him to hear is _I need you to be okay_.

“But we’re a team,” and Jesus, he’s been fighting Tash a lot lately, hasn’t he? He never used to, but since his head became his own again it feels like he can’t decide if he wants to argue with her or crawl into her skin.

“Clint.”

He wants to crawl into her skin.

“You’re on the back burner until you can pass the psych evals, Clint. It’s you and me, but I’m going to have a new partner until they clear you for field work again. It’s just until you’re okay.”

He wants to argue. Instead he says, “Who?”

He knows she isn’t supposed to tell him, but that she will anyway. “They want him to do a PR tour of the country before they bring him in, but that should only be for a month or so. They’ve put me with Rogers.”

He can feel the anger burning behind his eyes but he breathes it out slowly and he wonders if this is what Banner feels like when he says he’s always angry. He tries not think about the fact that Banner and Stark paired up, that apparently Rogers and Tash have been paired up, that Thor and Loki will always be a pair even if they’re stuck fighting against each other for the next few eons. He tries not to think about the fact that he lost his partner to Captain fucking America. When he comes back (if he comes back, but don’t think like that Barton), how will he be able to compare to that hunk of defrosted WWII mancandy? He tries not to think about it. He tries not to think about anything.

“Clint.”

“I’m okay, Tash.”

“I know,” she says as she brushes her fingers through his short hair. “I know.” She presses a kiss to his temple, then gently to his lips, then she whispers, “Get some sleep, Barton.”

He thinks, what if I can’t pass the psych eval? He thinks, what if she doesn’t want me if I’m not an agent anymore? He thinks, what am I going to do without her? He thinks, what am I going to do without Coulson? He thinks, who the fuck am I, who the fuck am I, who the fuck am I? He closes his eyes and evens out his breathing and hopes she thinks he’s fallen asleep. He’ll pretend to be asleep when she leaves because he’s afraid to look her in the eyes. He tries not to think.


End file.
